#522 The dice has been cast
The dice has been cast.
The decision has been made.
Now is not the time to negotiate.
The dice has been cast.
The decision has been made.
Now is not the time to negotiate.
If you know where you should go, relax. You’ll get there, fast or slow.
If you don’t know where you should go, relax. You’ll probably still get where you must go.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Keep moving.
Fast or slow.
Language helps us describe the world we perceive. Yet in doing so, it closes our eyes, our ears, our touch, and our heart to the parts of the world we don’t have words for.
Every language is a lens on a felt reality within and around us – both clarifying and categorizing the world, and limiting it by the words it has available.
Learning more languages gives you new lenses – and a richer sense of reality.
But just like the structure of our ears limit the sounds we can hear, and the structure of our eyes limit colors we can see, the structure of any language somehow limits our felt experience of the world.
How do we re-access memories, emotions, hidden away in a long-forgotten language?
How do we re-learn to listen to the voices of the wordless world speaking to our animal self… the voices that once upon a time, before verbal language emerged, were all we had?
there’s an eternal song
drowned out by the confines of my mother tongue
a wordless melody that once made sense
until our brain started blurring it with a lens
narrowing it down
neglecting its nuances through verbs and nounswith all its might language wants us to abide
Lukas Van Vyve
but the wordless world it tries to hide
will forever be inside
Performance gap: the frustrating gap between the way you know something should be done in an ideal world and the way you currently do it.
I know I should write daily blog posts in advance so I have a buffer in case something comes up and I don’t get to write. Yet here I am, writing this daily insight hours before the publication date.
I know what the perfect downward-facing dog pose in yoga looks like. Yet when I perform it myself, I am far off from that ideal pose.
I know all the ingredients that make up a solid, convincing speech. Yet when I write one myself, I am only able to incorporate a few of those ingredients.
Learning, then, is closing the gap between your intellectual understanding of an ideal product, action, or skill, and your current rendition of it.
Don’t be so hard on yourself for your current performance.
You can’t expect to turn intellectual understanding into mastery and internalized knowledge right away.
You don’t have to master this today.
You build self-trust by taking actions – Tiny Trust Builders – in alignment with who you want to be.
I want to be a writer, and build self-trust by writing every day, even if it’s just one line.
I want to learn Portuguese, and build self-trust by practicing every day, even if it’s just 2 minutes.
But often, what stops you from taking these actions in the first place is a lack of trust in yourself.
I don’t trust myself to write every day – I’ll give up anyway.
I don’t trust myself to learn Portuguese every day – I’ll probably get busy and skip a day.
There’s only one way out of this vicious cycle:
When you don’t trust yourself to take the actions, you take a leap of faith instead.
Because with every leap, fear turns into faith, and faith into trust.
In the moment, I don’t feel like a yoga pose comes easy to me – until I look back to how it felt 6 months ago.
In the moment, I don’t really feel like particularly good writer – until I look back on how hard it was to write these daily insights a year ago.
You don’t need to see progress every single day to know that you’re getting better.
Because the things that truly matter often change so slowly that you don’t notice them… unless you take the time to reflect on them.
Changes too small to notice today become impossible to ignore when they stack up.
Does a day end, or does a new one start?
Does the end of a book chapter signal termination, or does it serve as a gateway to an unexplored continuation?
Maybe we don’t need to arbitrarily mark endings and beginnings in lives that consist of an uninterrupted flow.
Maybe we’re just a tiny plot in a story spanning billions of years.
Maybe we don’t grasp the bigger story anyway.
Maybe it’s all the same.